


Set To Fall

by carryaworld



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi's mom ships it, Bokuto gets sick, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, That's it, and Akaashi handles it, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 15:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18995170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryaworld/pseuds/carryaworld
Summary: Bokuto catches a bad case of the flu, and since his parents are out of town, Akaashi steps in to take care of him.





	Set To Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kuromantic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuromantic/gifts).



> Bokuaka sick!fic was requested, and so sick!fic we shall have :') featuring Akaashi's gay panic and Bokuto being surprisingly stoic about being sick. I couldn't think of a title for this for my life, so I'm sorry for the awful pun asjdkjf

It’s early in the morning, and most of the team is taking is taking their sweet time staggering in for practice. 

 

Konoha raises his eyebrows as he looks at the clock. “Bokuto is late.” 

 

“Bokuto-san is going to show up to practice late because he’s sick,” Akaashi says, picking a volleyball up off the floor and tucking it under his arm. 

 

“That’s just uncanny, Akaashi,” Komi snorts. “Let’s hope you’re wrong. I feel like Bokuto would be unbearable sick.” 

 

Akaashi shrugs. There’s no point in theorizing when they’re about to find out anyway. 

 

“Hey hey hey!” Bokuto hollers as he makes his entrance. 

 

His hair is an absolute riot, sticking up even more than it usually does. The dark circles under his eyes are  tell-tale. 

 

“Bokuto-san, you’re late,” Akaashi tells him, one eyebrow lifted. 

 

Bokuto shuffles his feet sheepishly. “Sorry Akaashi, I overslept. We can play now though!” 

 

Practices starts soon after that. Bokuto brings his usual enthusiasm, and Akaashi does his best to keep an eye on both Bokuto and the team. It’s fairly easy, considering that as the setter, he tries to be aware of everything that happens on the court. 

 

Bokuto starts flagging an hour in, and he gets frustrated when he starts missing spikes. 

 

“Why don’t you go get some water,” Akaashi commands more than he suggests, and a sulky Bokuto shuffles off. 

 

“He really is sick,” Konoha says, impressed. “How’d you know?” 

 

“Nothing gets Bokuto-san out of bed faster than the prospect of playing volleyball,” Akaashi shrugs. “I think he should probably sit out the rest of practice.” 

 

“Good luck with that,” Konoha shakes his head. “He doesn’t like missing out.”

 

Akaashi crosses the gym to where Bokuto is seated, looking extremely grumpy about his banishment. 

 

“Akaaaashi, I want to play,” he protests weakly. 

 

Ignoring him, Akaashi lifts the back of his hand to Bokuto’s forehead. It’s far too warm, especially since he’s been sitting still long enough to cool down. 

 

“Your hand is nice and cold, Akaashi,” Bokuto sighs, leaning into the touch. 

 

Definitely running a fever, and certainly not in any condition to be practicing volleyball. Akaashi weighs his options. If he tells Bokuto outright that he can’t practice anymore, he’ll definitely be upset about it. But if he doesn’t tell Bokuto  _ no _ outright, he might try and practice. 

 

“How about you drink some water, and maybe you can play next set,” Akaashi bargains. 

 

Bokuto considers that. “Okay Akaashi!” 

 

He dutifully sits back and lifts his water bottle to his mouth. Akaashi would prefer to send him home, but at least this way he knows Bokuto is staying hydrated. 

 

They pick up the next set, and then another, Akaashi waiting tensely for Bokuto to insist on joining in. The moment, however, doesn’t come. Bokuto remains seated and sipping his water, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his promised time has come and gone.

 

Sick Bokuto is… surprisingly quiet. 

 

Sarukui leans in close to Akaashi and hisses, “Why isn’t he whining? He clearly doesn’t feel well.” 

 

“Maybe he’s too tired to whine?” Komi chips in. 

 

The underclassman skirt widely around Bokuto for their own water break, unnerved by how muted he is. Akaashi leaves him be, unwilling to give Bokuto the chance to start practicing again. 

 

Akaashi is used to running practice, and keeps things moving smoothly until it’s time to change for class. He’s reluctant to let Bokuto go to class, however.

 

“I can’t miss class, Akaashi! Then I won’t know what’s happening in maths!” Bokuto pleads, eyes wide. 

 

There’s no arguing with that. Bokuto is bright in his own way, but maths is his weakness and catching up on a missed maths lesson isn’t easy for anyone. 

 

“If you’re going, then you have to wear a face mask Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says sternly. “It’s not fair to get your classmates sick.” 

 

Bokuto nods emphatically, eyes crinkling in affection as Akaashi makes sure the mask is settled properly on his face. He checks his temperature with the back of his hand again, and knows that he’s probably making a mistake letting Bokuto go. 

 

“And if you feel really bad, you’ll go to the nurse, promise?”

 

Akaashi feels like a doting mother, and he knows the team thinks as much because Komi is audibly snickering. What goes around will come around, especially considering that they’re going into flu season. 

 

“I promise Akaashi!” 

 

Sighing, Akaashi offers Bokuto a hand up. “I’ll walk you to class then.” 

 

“Thanks, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto says more quietly as he collects his bag and follows Akaashi out. 

 

He sticks close, his elbow brushing Akaashi’s as they walk. His voice is getting hoarse, and Akaashi digs around in the front pocket of his bag for lozenges. Thank goodness they’re still in there.

 

“Don’t eat them all at once,” he says sternly. “I’ll come find you at lunch.” 

 

Bokuto offers him a tired grin, and they split off to their designated classrooms. 

 

*

 

Bokuto is nowhere to be found at lunch time, which Akaashi hopes means that he went to the nurse and got sent home; not that he’s passed out somewhere. 

 

He frets over it the rest of the day anyway, and is relieved to fall into step with Komi, Konoha, and Sarukui.

 

“Did Bokuto-san go home?”

 

“What, you couldn’t predict that?” Sarukui shakes his head. “He went to the nurse, but I don’t think they sent him home because they couldn’t reach his parents.” 

 

Akaashi slows, racking his brain.  _ Hell _ . Bokuto’s parents are out of town on business. They certainly wouldn’t have let him go to school sick. 

 

“His parents are out of town, I should go get him,” Akaashi frets, spinning on his heel. 

 

Komi catches him by the elbow before he can take a full step. “Call us if you need something,” he insists, squeezing until Akaashi nods in agreement. 

 

The nurse seems resigned to see him. Bokuto is napping on one of the beds, looking distinctly paler than he had that morning. 

 

“And I don’t suppose you know how to get in touch with his parents?” she asks tartly. “I can’t just send him home like this. He’s looking to have a case of the flu.” 

 

“His parents are out of town on business, I’ll take him home with me,” Akaashi says evenly. 

 

He has to work to keep his voice steady, arguing with authority figures is not his favorite thing to do. She squints at him skeptically. Bokuto, mercifully, is sick enough to continue dozing through their conversation. 

 

“You sure about this, Akaashi-san? You’ll have to be careful not to catch it yourself.” 

 

Akaashi nods firmly. “He won’t have anyone to take care of him, otherwise.” 

 

The nurse harrumphs and stands, sorting through the cabinet and tucking medicines into a plastic bag. Akaashi steps out of her way, keeping an attentive eye on Bokuto. Getting him home is going to be a challenge if he’s as sick as he looks. 

 

“Here, take these with you,” the nurse instructs, passing the plastic bag over. 

 

She’s filled it with more than is necessary, but Akaashi dips his head in thanks, pulling the plastic handles over his wrist. 

 

“Now, to get him up…” 

 

“Let me—” Akaashi interjects. The situation will be easier to control if Akaashi is the one to wake him. 

 

The nurse is growing tired of him, but she humors him anyway. It’s a good thing Akaashi has a decent record as a student.

 

“Bokuto-san, it’s time to get up,” he shakes Bokuto’s shoulder gently.

 

It takes a couple more tries, but finally Bokuto blearily rejoins them in the waking world. 

 

“‘Kaashi?” he sighs, rubbing at his eyes. 

 

“Yes, it’s me. It’s time to go home, Bokuto-san.” 

 

“Don’t want to go home,” Bokuto mumbles, his gold eyes half-lidded. 

 

Akaashi ignores this and begins the careful process of getting a reluctant Bokuto on his feet. He sways unsteadily once standing, spots of color bright on his cheeks. Concerned that he might tip over, Akaashi slings Bokuto’s arm over his shoulder. 

 

“You’re coming home with me, Bokuto-san,” he says quietly, accepting Bokuto’s backpack from the nurse and shouldering it in addition to his own. 

 

All in all, it’s going to be rough going. 

 

“Going to ‘Kaashi’s house?” Bokuto brightens, even though Akaashi is fairly sure he’s not fully comprehending the situation.

 

“Yes, we’re going to my house.”

 

The nurse sees them out, and Akaashi almost cries in relief to find Washio waiting in the hall. He’s the quietest of the third years, but he and Akaashi get along well. 

 

Washio divests Akaashi of his extra baggage without hesitation. “I’ll walk you home.” 

 

*

 

His senpai leaves them at the doorstep of his home, giving only a brief wave in farewell.

 

“Take care of our ace, Akaashi-san,” he says, and strides off down the street. 

 

Akaashi fumbles with the keys for the moment before letting them into the house. The backpacks he ditches off to the side before he sets to work sliding off his own shoes, and then Bokuto’s. It makes enough of a racket to draw his mother’s attention.  

 

“Hi Mom,” he sighs when she arches an eyebrow. “Bokuto-san is sick and his parents are out of town.” 

 

“Keiji, when I said bring Bokuto-kun by for dinner, this is not what I meant,” his mother scolds, grabbing ahold of Bokuto’s other arm. “My, he’s heavy.” 

 

“Hi Akaashi-san,” Bokuto croaks. “Sorry for intruding.” 

 

It’s startling to hear his surname with the honorific used, Bokuto has been informal with him since the beginning.

 

“Now now,” Akaashi’s mother tuts sternly. “No apologies. Let’s get you to bed.” 

 

It’s a team effort, getting Bokuto to Akaashi’s bedroom. His mother leaves him to wrangle Bokuto into some of his spare clothes, which are comically small on him. 

 

“I’ll get some soup started, get a cool cloth for his head,” his mother calls down the hall. 

 

Bokuto is like a ragdoll during the whole process, leaning into Akaashi with far too much of his body weight. It’s fortunate that Akaashi is used to Bokuto hanging off of him, because it makes getting him tucked into bed much easier. 

 

“‘Kaasshiiii,” Bokuto whines as Akaashi tucks the covers up around his chin. 

 

He’s in Akaashi’s bed of course, it’s the only way that makes sense. Akaashi will drag the futon out for himself later. 

 

“Yes Bokuto-san?” he asks patiently. 

 

Bokuto’s brow scrunches, beads of sweat springing up on his forehead. Akaashi should really get that cool cloth. 

 

“You’re so nice,” he sighs. “Kaashi is soooooo nice.” 

 

That makes Akaashi’s stomach do funny little flip flops, but he shoves it down. It’s just the fever talking. 

 

“Let me get a cloth, Bokuto-san,” he says, turning for the door. 

 

He doesn’t get very far—Bokuto’s fingers close around his wrist. Bokuto has always been amused that Akaashi’s hands are bigger. It’s only because Akaashi was gifted with his mother’s long, slender fingers. 

 

“Don’t go,” Bokuto pleads. 

 

It’s surprisingly hard, seeing Bokuto like this. Feverish and weak, with desperation in normally glittering gold eyes. 

 

Akaashi turns back, closing his free hand around Bokuto’s clutching fingers. He strokes Bokuto’s hand soothingly until he starts to relax, eyes fluttering closed. 

 

“I’ll be right back,” he promises. “I’m going to get you some medicine.” 

 

Another whine, but Akaashi waits it out, fingers working rhythmically. Despite how hard he fights it, Bokuto succumbs to a fitful doze. Very carefully Akaashi tucks Bokuto’s arm under the covers and straightens his face mask before he leaves the room. 

 

His mother turns from her place at the stove as he pads into the kitchen. 

 

“He’s pretty sick,” she observes, one eye on the pot. 

 

“He showed up to practice looking ragged, and it only got worse,” Akaashi sighs, getting a cup out of the cabinet and filling it with water. 

 

“Such a stubborn boy,” his mother tsks. “Be sure to make him drink lots of tea.” 

 

Humming assent, Akaashi retrieves the bag of medication the nurse sent home. He roots through it until he finds what he wants.

 

“Get me when the soup is ready?” he requests, and his mother smiles, beckoning him over so she can give him a side hug.

 

“Of course, Keiji. You’re a good friend, my son.” 

 

Cheeks pink, Akaashi wriggles free. Her laughter chases him down the hallway as he wets a washcloth in the bathroom, and takes his haul into the bedroom. 

 

Bokuto stirs restlessly as the door clicks shut, but doesn’t wake fully until Akaashi sits down on the edge of the bed. His face is pinched, and Akaashi is fairly certain he’s clenching his jaw. 

 

“Bokuto-san?” 

 

Hazy eyes find their way to his face and Bokuto opens his mouth, only to close it again. That’s… strange. 

 

Akaashi scoots farther onto the bed, avoiding bumping Bokuto’s legs. “Here, this will help.” 

 

He offers Bokuto the medicine and the cup, but ends up having to hold the latter to keep Bokuto from spilling it. It takes all of the reflexes he’s honed for volleyball to keep the cup, Bokuto, and himself from falling on the floor. 

 

The cup barely makes it to the safety of the nightstand before Bokuto slumps against Akaashi like a dead weight. Heat radiates off of him in waves, but he seeks to absorb some of Akaashi’s, nuzzling his face into the crook of Akaashi’s neck.

 

In danger of his own face catching fire, Akaashi dies internally. Bokuto hardly seems to notice as Akaashi drapes the damp cloth across the back of his neck.

 

“Hurts,” he mumbles, so quiet Akaashi would have missed it if Bokuto wasn’t talking directly into his ear. 

 

That explains the face. Considering the fever he’s running, it wouldn’t surprise Akaashi if he had body aches to match. 

 

“What hurts, Bokuto-san?” he asks. 

 

There’s a pause, like Bokuto is weighing his answer.

 

“Everything,” he breathes at last, hot breath ghosting along Akaashi’s neck. 

 

He hides the faint tremor in his voice better than one would expect. Who would have guessed that Bokuto would be so stoic about being sick. 

 

“Then you should lay down, the medicine should kick in soon.” 

 

Akaashi twists, ready to maneuver Bokuto’s limp form, but Bokuto clings tighter.

 

“No, want to stay with you ‘Kaashi,” he whimpers. 

 

Ouch. Bokuto has a talent for tugging directly on his heart strings. It’s a testament to Akaashi’s self-discipline that he says no to Bokuto as often as he does.

 

“I’ll stay, but you have to lay back down, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi wheedles. 

 

It’s enough to convince him, and Bokuto settles back against the mattress, dragging Akaashi down with him. Sleep as pulling at him again, obvious in how sluggish his movements are. But he hangs onto Akaashi determinedly, to the point where Akaashi is forced to lay down next to him. 

 

The bed isn’t meant for two nearly grown boys, so Bokuto ends up half on top of Akaashi. 

 

_ It’s fine. Everything is fine. _

 

It’s certainly  _ not _ fine because Akaashi’s crush is using him like a boyfriend pillow. He might be hyperventilating. 

 

“Bokuto-san, there is not enough room in this bed for two people,” he says tightly, trying to pry Bokuto off with gentle fingers.

 

The effort is fruitless. Bokuto is a determined limpet, clinging on for dear life. Akaashi is weak to how content he looks with his head pillowed on Akaashi’s stomach. Bokuto shivers slightly and Akaashi gives up completely, dragging the comforter up and over Bokuto’s shoulders. 

 

A sleepy sigh sounds from under the covers and Bokuto is out like a light. Akaashi waits a few minutes before checking Bokuto’s temperature again with his hand. 

 

Still warm, but hopefully the medicine will bring the fever down. In the meantime, he’s rather stuck. At least his phone is within reach. 

 

*

 

Akaashi’s mother brings soup a while later, when he’s starting to get bored of the game he’s playing on his phone. 

 

Her eyes glint with mischief as she takes in the scene, and before Akaashi can protest, she’s taken at least six pictures on her phone. Telling her about his crush was a mistake. 

 

“Do you want to wake him?” she whispers, pretending like her only child isn’t glaring hard enough to light the drapes on fire. 

 

What he wants is to either delete the evidence, or send all the pictures to his own phone. Seeing as he can do neither, he nudges Bokuto awake instead. 

 

Dinner goes smoother than Akaashi could have hoped. The medication brought Bokuto’s fever down enough that he’s coherent and able to eat on his own. Akaashi, finally able to escape his clutches, scarfs down his own bowl of soup. 

 

And, since he’s free, he takes the opportunity to gather up some clean clothes and sneaks off to shower. 

 

His mistake, however, is leaving his mother alone with Bokuto. It’s not as if they haven’t met before, she comes to games and knows full well how important they are to each other.

 

But sick Bokuto has even less of a filter than normal Bokuto, and his mother looks like the cat who got into the cream. 

 

“Koutarou was just telling me—” she begins, grinning, and Akaashi groans. 

 

“Bokuto-san, whyyyyyyyyy?”

 

Bokuto looks abashed as Akaashi’s mother ruffles his hair and moves the tissue-box closer on the nightstand. “She asked nicely?”

 

Of course she did. 

 

Akaashi will be hearing about that later. Her job complete, his mother leaves, closing the door behind her. 

 

“Feeling better?” Akaashi asks as he gets the extra futon out of his closet. 

 

Bokuto opens his mouth to answer, but is cut off by a round of coughing. When he can finally untuck his face from the crease of his elbow, he tugs the mask back over his face. 

 

“A little,” he says before he ends up coughing again. 

 

“Mmmhmm,” Akaashi hums skeptically, most of his attention on neatly setting up the futon. 

 

Bokuto watches him for a while before he untangles himself from the blankets and slides out of bed. He sways for a moment before steadying, but it’s enough to make Akaashi nervous. 

 

“Can I trust you to make it to the bathroom without falling over?” he asks, eyes narrowed. 

 

“”Kaaashiiii,” Bokuto whines. “Of course you can.”

 

“Uh huh. Well then get on with it.”

 

Bokuto pouts but goes, a hand out to steady himself against the wall. Akaashi listens until the bathroom door closes before he allows himself to relax.

 

It’s still fairly early in the evening to be going to bed, but the more Bokuto sleeps, the better. Akaashi can be content reading a book with only the lamp on. 

 

“Go to sleep, Bokuto-san,” he says for the fifth time once Bokuto returns from the bathroom. 

 

Bokuto’s in bed, having finished the cup of tea Akaashi’s mother forced on him, so they’re halfway there.  

 

“I want to stay up with you,” Bokuto protests. 

 

Akaashi has to crane his neck to look up at him from the futon. All he can see are the bright tufts of his trademark hair. 

 

“How about we both go to sleep then,” he tries. 

 

He’s not particularly tired, but if this is what it takes, a couple extra hours of sleep certainly won’t hurt him. 

 

Bokuto exhales and seems to melt into the covers. “Okay.” 

 

Akaashi gets up and turns the lights out, finding his way back in the dark with easy familiarity. The room is quiet as he gets settled into the futon, punctuated by the soft rustling of fabric. 

 

“Sorry I’m a bother, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto mumbles into the dark. 

  
Akaashi turns over so that he’s facing the bed. “You’re not a bother, Bokuto-san.”

 

Bokuto makes a sound like he doesn’t quite believe it. 

 

“You’re not, I promise,” Akaashi repeats more firmly. “Get some sleep so that you can start feeling better. We need our ace.”

 

“G’night ‘Kaashi.”

 

“Goodnight, Bokuto-san.” 

 

*

 

Sometime in the night, Akaashi’s eyes snap open. The air in the room feels too thick, but it’s the blanket that dropped on him that woke him. 

 

He sits up, rubbing at his eyes until they adjust. Bokuto is shifting restlessly on the bed, which is probably how the blanket got pushed off. 

 

Akaashi gets up to check on him, hissing under his breath when he brushes Bokuto’s skin. His fever is back with a vengeance; the medicine must have worn off. 

 

“Bokuto-san,” he shakes him gently. 

 

The only thing he can do is wake Bokuto up and get him to take another dose to bring his fever back down. 

 

“Bokuto-san,” he tries again when Bokuto doesn’t wake. “Bokuto.  _ Koutarou. _ ”

 

Bokuto groans softly, but it’s enough that Akaashi doesn’t feel bad hauling him upright. He fumbles for the glass of water he left by the bed. 

 

“Don’t feel good,” Bokuto whispers, eyes only half open. 

 

“I know,” Akaashi bites down hard on the inside of his cheek. “You have to take some more medicine.” 

 

“Nooooo.”

 

He turns his face into Akaashi’s shoulder, and Akaashi can practically feel him shaking. This is scary. If he can’t get Bokuto to take the medicine, he’s going to have to wake his mother up. 

 

“Koutarou, please,” he says softly. 

 

Bokuto mumbles something unintelligible but sits back and clumsily swallows the medication Akaashi gives him. He winces as it goes down, his whole face scrunching up. 

 

Relieved, Akaashi leans back against the headboard and takes a breath. Bokuto is doing a slow slide down Akaashi’s shoulder. Forseeing the inevitable, Akaashi shifts so that Bokuto can rest his head in his lap. 

 

“Bokuto-san?” he says quietly, unsure whether or not he’s still awake. 

 

“Koutarou.” 

 

“Koutarou,” Akaashi amends, even though the name feels too intimate on his tongue now that his terror has abated.

 

There are a lot of things on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps them in. Instead, he sets to combing through Bokuto’s hair with his fingers. Whether it’s meant to soothe Bokuto or himself is unclear, but eventually the casual touches branch out across Bokuto’s broad shoulders and back. 

 

Bokuto is pliant under his hands, his eyes closed as the occasional cough wracks his broad frame.

 

Akaashi hates this, Bokuto isn’t meant to be this low. He’s vibrant and happy, full of life and almost more than Akaashi can keep up with. 

 

It makes something fiercely protective flare in his chest, fueled by the way Bokuto so implicitly has placed his trust in Akaashi. He only hopes he can be worthy of that trust. 

 

Bokuto drifts off quickly once the medicine kicks in, taking the edge off his fever and the coughing.  Akaashi follows a while later, once his thoughts calm, with Bokuto fast asleep on him. 

 

*

 

They sleep late, shifting sometime in the night but remaining close. Akaashi opens his eyes to find himself hopelessly tangled in Bokuto’s long limbs. 

 

Bokuto is still out cold, breathing through his mouth. His face is soft in sleep, hair falling down to frame his face. He looks a lot younger without it spiked up. 

 

Akaashi takes care in disentangling himself and gets up, leaving Bokuto sleep the better part of the day. He could use it, but Akaashi has other things to do. 

 

There’s still Saturday afternoon practice to contend with, after all. But if he leaves, Bokuto will be upset. The only solution left then is to give the other 3rd years instructions for running practice. 

 

It’s not like they aren’t capable. 

 

If he’s lucky, they’ll even have a productive practice. They respond immediately to his texts, promising to make everyone work hard, and inquiring after Bokuto. 

 

Akaashi takes care responding to each of their messages, reassuring them that Bokuto will be fine. As much as they like to tease, they all care about their captain. 

 

That settled, Akaashi digs into his homework to pass the time. 

 

Bokuto wakes later for another dose of medicine, and it seems the worst has passed. He’s very put out that Akaashi skipped practice, however. 

 

“Why couldn’t we go, Akaashi?” he complains, dutifully sipping another cup of tea. 

 

“I don’t want to get the rest of the team sick,” Akaashi says firmly. “And you’re not well enough to go.”

 

That gives Bokuto pause. 

 

“Wait… Akaashi, aren’t you worried about getting sick taking care of me?” 

 

He’s getting more distressed by the minute, Akaashi can see him cooking up a frown. 

 

“It’s fine, Bokuto-san, I’m being careful.” 

 

Bokuto isn’t placated by that in the slightest. “But ‘Kaashi, you can’t get sick!” 

 

Easing onto the edge bed, Akaashi bumps Bokuto’s shoulder. “Bokuto-san, it’s fine, I promise.” 

 

With a groan, Bokuto slumps down on Akaashi’s shoulder. “I don’t see why it’s worth you risking it.”

 

Akaashi smiles, studying the way black blends into white and gray at the top of Bokuto’s head. 

 

“Because I like you, Bokuto-san.” 

 

He hadn’t planned on saying anything, but it’s just so easy in the moment.  

 

Bokuto goes still, leaning back so that he can better see Akaashi’s face. His eyes are wide, locking on with furious intensity. 

 

“‘Kaashi?” he says with more caution than Akaashi has ever heard him use. “As friends? Or more than friends?” 

 

Akaashi’s mouth is dry. “As more than friends, Bokuto-san.” 

 

There’s a long, fraught pause as Bokuto processes that. Akaashi is preparing to flee the country when Bokuto wraps him in a hug tight enough that it threatens to crack ribs. 

 

“I feel that way too, ‘Kaashi!” 

 

“Oh good,” Akaashi breathes out.

 

“I want to kiss you, but that would definitely get you sick,” Bokuto pouts.

 

Akaashi leans back a touch to press their foreheads together. “I can wait.”

 

Bokuto whines and Akaashi tugs his ear gently in retribution. 

 

“You’re sick, Bokuto-san, resting is the only thing you should be doing.” 

 

“Stay in bed with me then,” Bokuto cajoles, making his best puppy dog face. “We can watch a movie!”

 

As if Akaashi could say no to that. 

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon curled up, watching whatever catches Bokuto’s attention. And if Bokuto ends up dozing on Akaashi’s shoulder, well, Akaashi places a kiss on the top of Bokuto’s head to make them even. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> As per usual, feel free to come holler at me on tungle.hell @carry-a-world, I don't bite but I will talk your ear off


End file.
